


A textbook case study

by tyrantmoves



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution, Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Not a romance, Poor Adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 10:32:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5087329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyrantmoves/pseuds/tyrantmoves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megan Reed had not meant for him to fall in love with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A textbook case study

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I busted out in 30min to get through a writer's block for a different fic. A little thought experiment on who was actually pulling the strings in Deus Ex: Human Revolution.

Megan Reed had not meant for him to fall in love with her.

Megan Reed had only needed to bring him back to her apartment once. She’d never been much of a flirt, never had mastered the seductive way some girls could bite their lip or tilt their heads, those subtle acts of mating submission. Her friends had tried, dragging her out to frat parties in college but Megan could never get over the beer-soaked air, the smell rotting wheat sticking to her clothes and the resin of spilled alcohol sticking to her shoes. Late nights at the graduate lab were far more interesting.

Besides, Darrow had been a better lay than any college boy, expertly running his fingers over her thighs with the interest and precision of a true scientist.

She really, really hadn’t meant for Adam Jensen to fall for her.

\

“This data from White Helix ...”

“Yes?”

“It can’t possibly be ethical, sir, I don’t understand .. these children ..”

“The children were well cared for during the entire time of their stay at the clinic. Most of them had a better life there than they would have staying with their parents.”

“Exploiting the poor doesn’t make it better, sir.”

“So you object? You won’t retrieve it?”

A pause.

\

She knew he liked Molly’s. A testosterone fueled strip club where cops liked to hang out and stew in the misogyny they pretended to hide during the day. Phrases like _gender discrimination in law enforcement practices_ and _objectification of the female anatomy among men in high-risk occupations_ floated through her mind while she watched him from across the bar.

A busty stripper tried to give her a titty dance. Megan flushed so much the stripper saw it under the red lights and started rocking her hips, teasing with mirth, “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing alone in a place like this?” She came in closer, grinding her pelvis into Megan’s leg.

“No really, that’s not necessary,” Megan downed her cocktail, thinking she’d leave and try again another night (again). Flustered, she nearly tripped off her bar stool when a strong arm caught her.

“I’d ask if this girl was bothering you,” he asked, voice hoarse and deep. “But I think you could take her.” He patted the stripper lightly on the bum and gave her a twenty. “Leave the woman alone, Sapphire.”

He knew the strippers by name. _Engagement in partner-less, pseudo-sexual activities among chronically solitary men._

Black hair cut raggedly, sideburns against a chiseled face and kind, intelligent eyes. Okay, he was a looker, even Megan could see that. Apparently also had a weakness for damsels in distress; she didn’t need her CASIE upgrade to understand that much. _Knights in shining armour; a contemporary analysis of male power and female protection._

“Hi, I’m Megan.” It was the best pick up line she could muster.

He pushed a strand of hair from her eyes with easy confidence, tucking it behind her ear. “Megan.” A ghost of a smile played on his thin lips. “Can I buy you a drink?” He looked around, back at his police buddies who had moved on to shots by this point. “Somewhere else?”

\

Megan moaned under his touch, almost mortified at the animal sound. He responded by gripping both her wrists and pinning them above her head, biting hard onto her neck. She gasped, wriggling under his grip, hating herself for being aroused by his strength.

He pulled away, looking down at her, expression hidden in the darkness of her room. She squirmed. _Touch me again, do that again, I liked that --_

“You’re analyzing me right now, aren’t you?” he asked, amused. Pinning her wrists with only one of his, he dragged his other hand along her collarbone ... between her breasts ... swirling circles around her nipples ...

“Not,” she gasped when he pinched firmly. “Not analyzing. Just doing. Oh god. Keep doing.”

Chuckling, a low rumble in his chest, he dropped his mouth to her chest, following the path his finger had taken. She lurched, arching into his hard chest when he bit again, not her neck this time.

\

She kept the condom, extracting it from the garbage and into a plastic bag with gloves on. It was the weirdest and most thrilling thing she’d ever done.

\

“Are you with me right now?” he asked, only a hint of annoyance to his voice. That was a hint more than he'd revealed a few months ago and a lot more than many months ago.

“What? Oh, sorry,” she replied, not looking up from her smartphone, typing away. “There’s just ... Xiao has a question about last night’s diagnostics in the neural lab, I think one of the servers crashed from data streaming ... just one second ...” She put the phone down, finally. “What were you saying? You’re going to Mexico?”

“Mexicotown ... “

“Oh, right, I’m so sorry, that poor boy, it must have been so hard on you --” her phone started to ring. She answered, seeing “Sarif” on the screen name, mouthing a silent apology to Adam.

Adam rapped his fingers on the table and said nothing. He never did.

_Failure to communicate early indicator of isolating behaviour, predisposition to depression._

\

Megan Reed was single again. She was going to miss the sex but then again, she hardly had time for it anyways, with her breakthroughs on Patient X. Sometimes she squirmed a little, wondering if people would ask questions, wondering if he would put the pieces together ...

Maybe she shouldn’t have gotten him that job. He’d have access to everything now. Maybe it would be better once Darrow got her out of this mess.

\

“Jaron,” she laughed, turning around, thinking it was early for their usual playtime.

She froze.

She hadn’t expected to see him again. He was supposed to have died but they rebuilt him, a macabre testament to the immortality of scientific innovation. A part of her admired his new body more than she ever had his organic one. The dermal-armour bolted into his chest, the elegant slide of his sunglasses into their temple ports, even the soft mechanical whir she heard every time he moved his arms. For the first time, Megan Reed thought Adam Jensen was truly beautiful.

Then she caught the look in his eyes when he averted his gaze from the mirror in her Omega Ranch room. The haunted phantom that hung there when she’d gleefully informed him, _yes_ , she could power his augs back up, _of course,_ she had a cure for that hacking. The terrible darkness, a demonic shadow that didn’t just follow his gait but seemed to grow across the walls of her white room like a weed.

She wished he looked at her with contempt. Anger. Hate.

_Attachment to tormentors among trauma victims, an exploration in heightened emotional vulnerability._

Megan Reed had not meant for him to fall in love with her.


End file.
